


Three Consequences

by Innibis



Series: A Matter of Choice [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Drama, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, family love, hermione is still the best, they'll be fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innibis/pseuds/Innibis
Summary: After the choices come the consequences.





	Three Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Putting the blame squarely on recent conversations with other old school shippers that made me want to possibly start writing again after 72 years off, but in the meantime I'm moving stuff over from LJ. For posterity I guess? It was a miracle I remembered that account’s password. . .
> 
> Love to LJ's libgirl, beta extraordinaire from once upon a time. Used to be named Three Connections but I changed it in a moment of devil-may-care frivolity.

The sudden warmth against Ron’s left thigh made him pause in his packing efforts. He looked up at Hermione and reached into his pocket just as his sister’s disembodied, partially panicked voice floated up the stairs. “Hermione! Ron?”

“Jamie?” Hermione asked Ron quietly as he dug a Galleon out of his pocket and looked at it. He nodded. “Good,” Hermione said. “That’s a good thing Ron. You go. I’ll talk to Ginny.”

Ron dropped a kiss on Hermione’s head before Apparating out of what used to be their bedroom. He appeared in a secluded glen, no more than a ten minute walk from his house. Standing in front of him was his godson, James Potter. 

“So, you came,” James said, voice low, looking so much like his father had at that age in his clenched fist defiance.

Although Ron had been dreading having this conversation, part of him had been afraid that it would never happen. Afraid that James would throw away the protean charmed galleon that Ron had given him when he was seven years old and never willingly speak to him again. “I’m sorry that this is so difficult, Jamie. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

“You’re leaving Mum and Aunt Hermione so that you can be _together_ , and all you can say is you’re sorry?” James voice rose with every word until he was shouting.

“We would never leave any of you. We’ll see you every day if you want us to, mate. Just because-”

“Just because you lot are splitting up doesn’t mean that you love us any less,” James imitated nastily. “Well bugger that, Uncle Ron! I want the truth from you!” His shoulder slumped but his green eyes were fierce, “You’ve always told me the truth, no matter what.”

That had been the agreement they made years ago, when James had run away after a fight with his parents and Ron had found him in this little spot in the woods. Ron had sat on the ground next to James and had performed a quick charm on the two galleons he had pulled from his pocket. “When you’re mad at your parents or need to escape your brother and sister, or just want to talk to me without all the others hanging around,” Ron had said, handing James one of the coins, “I want you to use this. I’ll come straightaway, and even if you want to be left alone, I’ll know that you’re safe and I can make sure your dad doesn’t level the countryside looking for you.” It was a modified charm, of course. James was too young to own a wand, but he had picked his password carefully (“Cannons Rule” as a small rebellion against his own Harpy playing mother) and when he held the galleon just so, and said the magic words, Ron’s own galleon would grow warm, and Ron would Apparate to the glen. 

“And you’ll always tell me the truth?” James had asked.

Ron had put his hand solemnly over his heart. “I will always tell you the truth; on my word as a godfather.” 

“And no one else will ever know,” James had said, nodding, pleased to have a secret with his favorite uncle.

Ron had ruminated a moment, then answered, “We’ll tell Aunt Hermione the basics, but only so she can run interference for us with your parents. She won’t know where we go or what we talk about, but it’s always good to have back-up.” Uncle and nephew had shaken hands to seal the deal.

Now James was older and his faith in Ron was shaken, but intact enough to summon him and demand answers. Ron steeled himself and spoke honestly, if uncomfortably. “This decision is something that neither your father nor I took lightly. What your dad and I have is special; it’s not something we can give up.” Ron sat heavily on the ground, back against a tree.

“But- Mum, and Aunt Hermione-” James tapered off, sliding to the ground as well, looking lost and hurt and so young.

“I know, Jamie,” Ron said, aching, letting the boy in front of him see the guilt-ridden resolve in his eyes.  “It’s an awful situation because we do love them, but would you want to stay with someone in love with someone else?” James looked mutinous. “Well, Aunt Hermione and your mum don’t, and they deserve better. There’s more to it than that, but it isn’t any of your business.” Ron raised a hand to stave off James’ protests, “It isn’t your business, mate, and that’s the truth.”

“You really want to be a couple then. Like an Uncle Percy and Uncle Kingsley couple?” James asked. 

“Probably. Maybe. I don’t talk to Percy about what he and- Look, we haven’t gotten that far.” Ron hurried on, “Every relationship is different because the people involved in them are different. I’ve never-” Ron paused, searching for the right word, “I’ve never _dated_ your father so I don’t know what we’ll be like.”

“You’ll be the same. Only you’ll be shagging,” Ron gaped at James who continued in a flat tone. “It’s true. You’ll listen to Quidditch and talk about work and make fun of Uncle Neville’s plants and Aunt Hermione’s cooking and Mr. Finnegan’s girlfriends; and you’ll still say good-night to each other last every night.” James looked Ron straight in the eye, “You already have all that, why do you need to ruin everything?”  

Ron sighed. “Hermione knows. She’s always known. We talked about it a while ago and we’re alright. Plus, we love you kids too much to set such a bad example.” James snorted. “Really Jamie, you should not be taught to live dishonestly, or to accept situations that you have the power to change.  We’ve done that long enough and look how it’s hurting everyone,” Ron paused. James was silent but less visibly angry. “Does the fact that I’m a- that your dad is- that we-”

“Are men,” James nodded. “Yeah, but only because it means that you two are leaving Mum and Aunt Hermione and running off together. I wouldn’t like it if either of you ran away with Aunt Fleur either. But- you would never leave Aunt Hermione for anyone but Dad, would you?” James asked, slowly, more statement than question.

Ron shook his head “Never. Harry’s the only one. Are we- are we alright?” He asked, tentatively.

“No, we’re not,” James said, matter of fact, nearly formally, and Ron’s heart sank. “I’ll be angry with you and Dad for a long time.” Ron nodded, swallowing. “I’ll keep the galleon, yeah? We’ll- talk again, when I’m not as mad.”

“I think that you’ve done really well, mate, considering the situation, and the temper you inherited from your mum and dad,” Ron said, standing up slowly.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you here,” James said, rising and gesturing at the glen. “It’s different here; far away from everyone else. It makes it easier to sort through things.” He walked over to Ron and held out his hand, and Ron shook it, resisting the urge to pull his nephew in for a hug. “Let’s go then. Mum will be mad.” 

“Nah,” said Ron as they turned and walked back towards the house. “Hermione’s on it. She’ll just be glad to see you.” Ron stopped and put a hand on James’ shoulder, “Jamie, please promise me that if you really need to shout at someone, that you come shout at me. Your dad is just gutted about this whole thing.”

James shook off Ron’s hand and continued walking. “No. He’s my dad and I get to yell at him.” He smirked sideways at Ron, “Merlin knows how he’ll survive it, delicate flower that he is; runs from danger, flees in the face of adversity; I bet he even screams when he sees spiders-”

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed in token protest, recognizing the gesture. They walked the rest of the way home in silence. 

 

2

 

Ron trod slowly down the stairs of the house he, Hermione, Rose and Hugo had shared, a bag slung over his left shoulder. It was late, but he had taken his time saying good night to his children before leaving, striving for a sense of normalcy in the midst of the hurt and confusion. He was meeting Harry in his hotel room. It would be their first time alone together since the night Harry had kissed him on the front porch. He was terrified, exhilarated, and he was going to miss this life that he and Hermione had built together. 

Ron left his bag in front of the door and walked into the living room. Hermione was there, curled up in her favorite armchair with a book and a glass of red wine. She looked up as he entered the room and smiled. “All set, then?”

“Yeah. All set.” He sat heavily in the chair facing hers, trying to think of something, anything to say. “I’ll miss us.” 

Hermione stood up taking her wand in hand, arching into a back-cracking stretch before moving to stand in front of Ron. She performed a quick charm and, as the familiar music began to play, she reached for his hand. “Dance with me,” she said softly.

“I don’t dance,” Ron grumbled, even as he allowed Hermione to pull him to his feet and they moved together with little thought, sharing the rhythm of people who have danced together for two decades.

“You always say that, but you always dance with me when I want you to,” Hermione said leaning her forehead against Ron’s chest. 

“Yeah, well, only with you,” Ron smiled into Hermione’s curls, breathing her in. He let go of her hand and wrapped both arms firmly around her waist, pulling her close. 

Hermione lifted her head, looking straight up into Ron’s eyes as she snaked her hand into his bright red hair. “It won’t be the last time we dance, Ron. We’re still us and always will be, just like you and Harry have always been you and Harry.” She pulled his head down and kissed him lightly on the lips. “It’ll be fine.”

“Hermione-” Ron started, his forehead pressed to hers, staring into her warm brown eyes.

“It will be fine,” she said firmly. “This is the right thing to do, and you and I and Harry and Ginny are going to make it work.” 

“I love you, you know,” Ron said, brushing his lips over her nose.

“I know. I love you too; in spite of, and because of, everything.” They swayed quietly through the rest of the song, arms around each other, lingering in the last chapter of their marriage. As the music ended, Hermione stirred. Lifting her head, she said, “Harry’s waiting. You should go.”

Ron put his hand on the back of her head and pushed it gently to rest against his chest. “Harry can wait a little longer.”

 

3 

 

Harry answered the door to the suite looking worn and apprehensive. “Hi Harry,” Ron said awkwardly. Feeling sudden pressure as he stared at everything he’d ever wanted. “Can I-” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Harry moved back from the door, allowing Ron to enter the room, where Ron was immediately conscious of the fact that there was only one huge bed and that Harry and he were now free to--- do stuff. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, taking Ron’s bag from his hand and placing it in the corner before putting both hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know,” Ron said, “sort of numb at the moment.” 

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Same here.” He hesitated, then reached up to brush a kiss across Ron’s cheek before he stepped back. Ron’s heart fluttered, showing faint signs of life. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“Nah. I’m knackered, mate. I’d rather just go to bed.” They both froze. The words hung between them in a room of transition, this place where best friends had come to become something more complicated.       

“Me too,” Harry said, nodding nervously.

Ron laughed, in spite of himself. “We’re crap at this. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve only dated one person your entire life.”

“What about Cho and Lavender?” Harry asked, smiling.

“Do you count Cho and Lavender?” Ron asked.

“Well, yeah, gets our numbers up a bit.”

Ron shook his head, chuckling, and reached for Harry with both hands, grasping his hips and pulling him tight into his body, reveling in the strength of his best friend’s arms as they wrapped around his neck, closing his eyes and luxuriating in the feel of Harry’s stubble rasping against his as Harry tilted his head up to rub their cheeks together. “We’ll be fine,” Ron rumbled into Harry’s ear, repeating Hermione’s assurance.

He felt Harry nod before he pulled his head back. Ron opened his eyes to see Harry regarding him with breath-taking affection. “We’ll be better than fine, Ron. I was fine before, I’m rather looking forward to fantastic. 

Ron squeezed Harry tightly before letting him go. “So. Bed,” he said. 

They looked at each other for a moment before moving into night time routines. They brushed teeth and washed faces. Ron pulled on a pair of tattered pajama bottoms and Harry stripped to his boxers. Then, while Harry was in the loo, Ron slid between the cool, clean sheets.

Harry emerged, turned off the lights and, with barely a pause, clambered onto the other side of the bed. They lay there on their backs in the dark, both staring at the ceiling. “How are you doing now?” Harry asked.

Ron rolled over onto his hip to face his friend and contemplated telling Harry the whole story. How Jamie had shouted and Rosie had cried; how Hugo had withdrawn and Hermione had danced, but now was not the time and their bed was not the place. “Today was not a good day,” he said, “but then I came here. I came home to you.” 

“This isn’t a home,” Harry said. “Part of the reason we’re not going to work tomorrow is so that we can find a home.” 

Ron wriggled over and down. He slid his leg over Harry’s and, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder and his hand over Harry’s heart said “Yeah it is. This is home.”

Ron felt the tension drain from his body as Harry pressed kisses to his hair and wrapped his arms around Ron’s torso. “I love you,” Harry said softly into the dark.

“Yeah, I know.” Ron said, smiling. “I love you too.”

* * * 

He woke to a gentle finger being drawn up the arch of his foot. It bumped over his toes and slid over soft skin to circle lazily around his ankle. Ron opened one eye. Harry was sitting at the end of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, not even his glasses. 

Harry concentrated on Ron’s foot, tracing the lines of it over and over in what would have been a soothing pattern, except that Harry never touched him like this. There’d always been companionable back pats and shoulder bumps, a few head slaps and even a comforting hug or reassuring hand squeeze now and then. They had slept wrapped in each other’s’ arms the night before, and there had been one heart-melting kiss some days ago, but even that had been punctuation to a conversation, not touch for touch’s sake. Ron’s body was reacting positively to touch for touch’s sake. 

Harry didn’t turn his head at Ron’s sharp intake of breath, but he did smile, and the single finger tracing Ron’s foot slid more insistently around his ankle before Harry’s whole hand slipped under Ron’s pajamas and flattened on Ron’s shin, sliding upwards, catching on the fine red hair. 

Ron half sat up and captured the hand stealing over his knee, tugging to pull Harry up, nearly moaning as he felt Harry’s bare chest ghost over his as Harry rose, balanced on hands and knees, straddling Ron’s narrow body without touching it. His green eyes were brightly alive as he leaned down. 

Ron brought his hands up to Harry’s shoulders, holding him back, conscious of the fact that Hermione had hated to kiss him with morning breath. “Wait. I haven’t cleaned my teeth yet.” 

Harry shifted back on his knees, grasped Ron’s wrists in his hands, and suddenly lunged forward, pushing Ron’s arms up and over his head, pinning them there with his full weight even as he continued to hover over Ron, but just out of reach. “I don’t care, Ron,” Harry breathed into his face before leaning down again.  

Ron’s head fell back and his eyes closed as he felt Harry’s lips graze lightly over his.  His mouth opened on its own accord and Harry shifted to hold Ron’s thin wrists in one hand as he traced his finger over Ron’s mouth.  Nearly involuntarily, Ron flicked his tongue up, licking the tip of Harry’s finger. As Harry gasped, Ron opened his eyes to see him. “Please,” he whispered.

Harry’s hand moved to smooth Ron’s unruly hair off of his forehead. He nudged his nose against the side of Ron’s, nearly purring in contentment, before turning his attention back to his mouth. Ron’s world narrowed, filled with heat and fierce joy and soft lips. Harry sucked lightly on Ron’s bottom lip even as Ron slid his tongue along Harry’s upper lip. Harry pulled his head back once more, released Ron’s wrists and plunged both hands into Ron’s red hair. Harry tugged Ron’s head up to meet him, claiming Ron’s mouth for his own.  

As Harry plundered his mouth with teeth and tongue, Ron ran his newly freed hands over Harry’s shoulders and down his bare back. Harry’s wiry muscles relaxed under Ron’s strong caress as he firmly dug his fingers into the furrows on either side of Harry’s spine. Ron stopped at the edge of his boxers, hesitated, then trailed the tips of his fingers around to Harry’s stomach, following the elastic border. He smiled into Harry’s mouth as Harry’s skin erupted into goose bumps and he rubbed his knuckles up Harry’s abs and over his nipples. 

Tearing his mouth away from Ron’s, Harry stared down and panted, “What do you want?”

Ron reached up to touch Harry’s face briefly before placing his hands firmly on Harry’s lower back. “Everything,” he growled and pulled forcefully, nearly knocking the wind out of himself as Harry’s body collided with his own.  

Ron was so hard, that he thought that he might die when Harry’s own arousal pressed against his through thin layers of cotton. Having Harry’s bare chest pressed against his and their legs entwined and Harry’s scent all around put Ron into such a sensory overload that he lay still for a moment, hands still clutching Harry’s back. 

Harry wasn’t moving either. He maintained his grip on Ron’s hair, but his head was now buried in Ron’s neck, his crazed mop of hair tickling Ron’s cheek. Ron tried to match the rise and fall of Harry’s chest with his own, but he discovered that, even as his breathing was speeding up, Harry’s was slowing down into deliberate, full breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Ron slid a hand up to cup the back of Harry’s neck. “You alright, Harry?” 

Harry bit the side of Ron’s neck lightly before answering, muffled against Ron’s skin. “Brilliant. Just trying to calm myself down.”

Ron laughed and rolled, putting Harry firmly beneath him on the bed. “Don’t want you calming down,” he said, rocking his hips experimentally against Harry’s and gasping at the resulting friction.

“Want to last,” whined Harry, even as he wrapped his legs around Ron’s waist and pressed upwards to meet him. 

“Not much chance of that for me,” Ron panted, pulling his hands out from underneath Harry’s body to rest on his hips yanking at Harry’s boxers. “We _are_ going to do this again you know.”

Harry beamed up at Ron, “I know,” he said, helpfully bringing his legs down. “Isn’t it great?” 

“Absolutely.” Ron stripped Harry’s boxers, maneuvering with hands and then feet, leaving Harry stretched out and bare underneath him. Ron’s breath caught, lodged somewhere between his heart and his throat. He shifted off Harry’s body, lying on his side, head propped up on one hand as he touched the base of Harry’s throat with the other and ran his fingertips down in a straight line to his belly button. “Harry,” he whispered, appalled to find himself on the verge of tears.  

Harry rolled towards him, bringing their faces centimeters apart. “Ron,” he whispered back before he kissed him.  Ron felt the years of longing in that kiss, the sweetness of affection and the deep, abiding friendship that anchored them both. He also felt Harry trying to lower his pajama bottoms, tugging them insistently down one thigh. Ron lifted to balance on shoulder and foot to accommodate his efforts. 

“I thought we were having a moment,” Ron said, amused, as he broke the kiss.

“We are,” Harry smiled; waving Ron’s freed pajamas above his head in triumph and kissing his forehead soundly. “Now lie back and enjoy it,” he said, throwing the pajamas across the room and pushing forcefully on Ron’s shoulders.

Ron obediently rolled onto his back and was rewarded for his efforts by Harry swooping down to flick his tongue over the head of Ron’s cock. “Harry,” Ron nearly shouted in shock, shooting up to his elbows.  

“What? You wanted more foreplay?” Harry waggled his eyebrows up at Ron from his hunched over position near Ron’s hip.

Ron let out a half-strangled laugh. “Whatever you want, mate,” he said weakly, flopping back down into the pillow. 

“Whatever I want,” Harry repeated gleefully, nearly greedily. He tugged at Ron’s thigh to open his legs and settled between them. Harry rested his chin on Ron’s sharp hipbone, smiling sweetly even as he reached up to pinch a nipple. Ron jerked involuntarily.

Then Harry dragged his tongue over Ron’s hip, shuffling backwards and sliding his arms under Ron’s legs, pulling his knees up and buried his nose in Ron’s sac, inhaling deeply. Ron arched up off the bed. “Let me-” Ron murmured as he tangled his hands in Harry’s hair, “I need to see you. See your eyes. See you come with me.”

Harry surged up Ron’s body, performing a wandless lubrication charm and taking his own and Ron’s dick in one hand as their lips came together. Harry reached up with his free hand to grasp the headboard for leverage as he moved over Ron.  

Ron grabbed two handfuls of Potter arse and thrust into Harry’s hand. Harry rested his forehead on Ron’s staring straight into his eyes. He began to make small, almost choking sounds and Ron felt something warm and liquid and so big it was nearly painful rising, threatening to overtake his senses. His eyes rolled back into his head as his lashes fluttered closed. 

“No,” Harry growled into his face, nipping at Ron’s lips as the pace of his hips became frantic. “Look at me. Only at me.”   Ron’s eyes snapped back to the possessive green of his best friend’s. 

“Love you,” Ron gasped.

Harry let out a breathy moan as he came, eyes blazing, clinging to Ron’s.

Whether it was the warmth of Harry’s come or the look in Harry’s eyes, or just the fact that this was Harry and Harry was his, Ron was sent over the edge, holding his breath and Harry’s gaze as the pleasure expanded through him and released into Harry’s waiting hand. 

* * *

They lay together as sunlight brightened the room, sticky and sweaty and happy. Harry finally stirred enough to slump over to one side and Ron flailed his arm blindly at the bed side table to grab a wand, performed a cleaning charm on himself and Harry, and then dropped the wand onto the floor. He put his nose right up against Harry’s hair and inhaled deeply several times, nearly dizzy from the smell. “Reckon we have to get up soon,” he said.

“Mmph,” Harry said into Ron’s chest.

“Places to go, people to see.” Harry didn’t move. “Weasleys to feed.” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” Harry moaned.

“We’ll come back later,” Ron coaxed, stroking the soft skin of Harry’s backside. “But we need to start looking for our own place.”

Harry lifted his rear encouragingly into Ron’s hand and Ron stopped petting him. “Tease,” Harry grumbled but looked up hopefully. 

“Get your arse in the shower,” he said over Harry’s protests before adding “I’ll come wash your back.”

Smiling madly, Harry scrambled out of bed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bathroom. 

Ron followed more slowly, standing, then moving to stretch in front of the window as he contemplated the morning. “Ron!” Harry shouted over running water.

“Coming!” Ron called and then went to join his other half.  


End file.
